I sat on the edge of my bed, elbows braced on my knees, staring at the far wall as if it had personally offended me.
Everything about this room felt too small.
My proposal dress still clung to me—layers of silk and embroidery bunched around my legs like a deliberate insult. I had already torn the necklace from my throat and tossed it onto the vanity.
One heel lay abandoned near the door. The other had been flung somewhere behind a chair with enough force that it might never forgive me.
Behind me, I could feel them.
Griselda leaned against the wall, arms crossed, wearing that infuriatingly cheeky smile—the one she used when she knew she was safe from retaliation.
Isaac stood beside her, shoulders shaking, one hand pressed over his mouth, eyes watering.
I exhaled sharply. “If either of you laugh, I will personally ensure your next training cycle lasts until you beg for mercy.”
Isaac cracked.
The sound burst out of him—loud, undignified laughter that echoed far too freely in my chamber. He bent forward, bracing himself on his knees, wheezing.
“I— I’m sorry,” he managed, between breaths. “I just— you should’ve seen your face—”
Griselda snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth far too late.
I shot to my feet. “This is not amusing.”
Isaac wiped his eyes. “You tried to outrun a political marriage in heels.”
“I nearly broke my nose,” I snapped. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to run in ceremonial footwear? They sink. Into everything.”
Griselda shrugged lightly. “You could’ve taken them off.”
“I did,” I said coldly. “After tripping.”
Isaac laughed again—quieter this time, wiser.
Griselda tilted her head, lips twitching. “Imagine ata—”
She stopped.
The air shifted.
Isaac straightened instantly, laughter dying mid-breath. He turned toward her slowly, expression hardening into something sharp enough to cut. The look he gave her was not playful. It was a warning.
Griselda looked away, jaw tightening.
I narrowed my eyes. “Imagine what?”
Silence.
Isaac moved smoothly, inserting himself into the moment with practiced ease. He flashed me a grin—too quick, too deliberate. “I was just thinking,” he said, “you should probably start dance lessons for your wedding.”
I stared at him.
Then I stared harder.
“My what.”
“Dance lessons,” he repeated pleasantly. “You know. For when you’re paraded around like royalty incarnate. Can’t have you stepping on Rostamir’s toes.”
“I will step on his toes,” I said flatly. “Repeatedly. With intent.”
Griselda let out a breathy laugh. “You’d terrify the entire ballroom.”
“As I should.”
Isaac folded his arms. “You could always refuse to dance.”
“I don’t refuse,” I replied. “I endure. Then I dismantle.”
Griselda smirked again, carefully this time. “You’ll survive. You always do.”
I sat back down heavily, rubbing my temples. “I ran through the woods dressed like an offering,” I muttered. “I was carried into the throne room like a symbol. And now I’m being guarded in my own chamber.”
Isaac’s voice softened, just slightly. “At least you didn’t fall off the horse.”
I shot him a glare.
He grinned.
Imbecile.
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